


hold me down, i'm so tired now

by spiralpegasus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Consensual Somnophilia, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, Sparring, Tenderness, Top Sylvain Jose Gautier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24697465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralpegasus/pseuds/spiralpegasus
Summary: When Felix struggles to relax, Sylvain indulges him in more ways than one to help him calm down: first with a spar, and then with gentle, romantic sex. There's nothing Sylvain values more than Felix's trust and submission, and he treats Felix's vulnerability with all the care and tenderness in the world.Or, Felix is stressed, Sylvain is in love, there's soft dom/sub to be had, and Sylvain succeeds so much in making Felix feel safe and relaxed that Felix falls asleep during sex.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 25
Kudos: 335





	hold me down, i'm so tired now

**Author's Note:**

> fill for this prompt on the kink meme: https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=1108956
> 
> op asked for sparring, light dom/sub, tender baths, tenderness in general, consensual somnophilia, and aftercare. as i love all of these things, i just had to give it a try. i hope you enjoy, anon!!!
> 
> sylvain calls felix "good boy" in the context of consensual, light d/s in this fic; if that pet name isn't your cup of tea, here's your warning!
> 
> title is from sky full of song by f+tm!

Felix has been in a horrible mood the entire day.

He’s a prickly person to begin with, bluntly honest even when tact would serve him much better, but his attitude has gone past tactless and firmly into the territory of _just plain nasty._ He snapped at Ingrid for stealing food off his plate at breakfast. He smacked Ashe’s hand away when Ashe tried to correct his stance at the archery range. He’s said some things to Dimitri today that Sylvain hasn’t heard since their academy days. Sylvain can tell by the frustrated twist of Felix’s lips that he doesn’t like how he’s acting either, but Felix is the kind of person whose emotions rule every aspect of his life, no matter how much he hates it. If he’s in a bad mood, he _acts_ like it.

“Okay,” Sylvain interrupts when Felix opens his mouth like he’s going to say something rude to Annette after the war council – _Annette,_ of all people! Before Felix can do something he’s absolutely going to regret later, Sylvain grabs his bicep and leads him out of the war room and into the hallway. When they’re safely away from Annette’s curious eyes, Sylvain grips Felix’s shoulders and asks, seriously and without judgment, “What is your problem?”

 _“You’re_ my problem,” Felix says automatically, then winces with a barely perceptible twitch of his lip.

“Uh-huh,” Sylvain says. He waits.

It takes a few moments, but Felix visibly crumples, glancing to the side. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” he admits, voice low. “I—I can’t relax. I keep jumping at my own shadow. I can’t stop being—” He makes a frustrated sound.

“A bit of an asshole?” Sylvain supplies, gently and not without humor.

“Yes,” Felix says, defeated.

“Come on.” Sylvain loops an arm around Felix’s shoulders and jostles him affectionately. “I know what’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m not in the mood, Sylvain,” Felix says tiredly.

“Not sex,” Sylvain says, nudging Felix along to walk down the hall with him. “Or… maybe sex later, if you feel like it. But I was actually going to suggest a spar.”

“A spar? _You?”_ Felix snorts, but the bump of his shoulder against Sylvain’s side is fond. “Clearly I got even less sleep than I remember, because I must be hearing things.”

Sylvain laughs. “I know, I know. But I think it’ll make you feel better to work some of that energy out, you know? You’ve been too busy with war meetings and paperwork to train nearly as much as you used to.”

Felix pauses at that, brow furrowing, like he hadn’t even considered that as a potential reason for his current mood. Inwardly, Sylvain sighs; Felix is so perceptive in some ways, and so completely oblivious in others. Not that Sylvain minds taking care of Felix – entirely the opposite – but for Felix’s sake, Sylvain wishes he was better at taking care of himself.

“It’s late enough that the pitch is probably empty,” Sylvain continues as he leads Felix towards the training grounds. “No audience.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to go easy on you,” Felix says.

“I don’t expect you to.” Sylvain grins at him. “You know you can’t relax unless you’ve thrown everything you have into something.” And then, just a little bit dark, “And you can’t submit unless you’ve given me all you can, and I beat you anyway.”

Felix shivers beneath Sylvain’s arm. “Is that the game we’re playing?”

“Only if you want to,” Sylvain says, rubbing his thumb across Felix’s shoulder one last time before pulling away to pull the doors to the pitch open. “But I think it’ll help you relax. Wear you out, get you out of your head for a bit.” He ushers Felix past him and pushes the door shut behind the both of them. Over his shoulder, he adds, “And if you decide it’s not working, you have your word.”

Felix is watching him contemplatively. There’s still tension in the lines of his body and his face, but a bit of it bleeds away when he finally says, “You’re right.”

Something hot curls up in Sylvain’s stomach. Even if it doesn’t end in sex, Sylvain always loves being able to do this for Felix – to give him a safe place to corner himself, to fight until he’s too exhausted to fight anymore, to collapse into Sylvain’s arms knowing he’s allowed to be weak for a little while. He grabs a lance off the rack of training weapons and jerks his head at the swords. “Is that a yes?” he asks, just to make sure.

“That’s a yes.” Felix always takes the same training sword whenever he isn’t practicing with live steel, and today is no different; he hefts its weight in his hand as if to make sure it’s exactly as he remembers it before he heads out to the pitch.

Sylvain follows him out to a clear patch of sand. He was right in his earlier assessment – the only people still here are wrapping up, cleaning their weapons before they leave for the day. By the time he and Felix are finished, they’ll be alone.

“Ready?” Sylvain asks him, holding his lance in a ready position and bracing his feet. He’s not surprised when Felix answers with a brazen attack with his sword, though Felix is quick enough that Sylvain still struggles to catch it with his lance.

“Will an enemy on the battlefield ask you if you’re ready?” Felix snaps, twisting his feet to leverage his sword in a different direction. Sylvain, who was bracing his lance heavily enough that the sudden shift in weight makes his body jerk forwards, lashes out with his leg to kick one of Felix’s feet out from under him.

“Will an enemy on the battlefield restrict themselves to their weapons alone?” Sylvain asks in return, grinning at Felix’s sharp, irritated huff as he’s forced to stumble backwards to regain his balance, giving Sylvain the time and space he needs to recover.

Felix doesn’t deign to respond, instead focusing wholeheartedly on the spar at hand. Both he and Sylvain pull their blows enough that they probably won’t have anything worse than a few light bruises come morning, but the lack of physical intensity just means both of them have to lean more on their wits than their strength.

It’s an arena Felix clearly expects to dominate in – he’s small and quick, constantly having to outsmart larger opponents with his speed and technique. But Sylvain is smarter than he lets on and knows Felix inside and out besides, so he answers every one of Felix’s blows with agility and precision.

Felix glances left when he’s about to try to surprise Sylvain with a right-handed blow. He shifts his weight to his heels when he feels cornered, and he’s more likely to make foolish snap decisions when he doesn’t feel in control. He’s ambidextrous but prefers his right, so that’s the hand he’ll use if he needs to parry quickly. It’s not an easy fight by any means, but Felix is already distracted from his poor sleep and his poor mood, and Sylvain consistently maintains the upper hand.

Both of them are breathing heavily, sweat beading on their faces, by the time Sylvain finds the opening that puts Felix down hard enough to end the spar. Felix, tired from the spar and his emotional state, falls for a feint that he’d normally see through in a heartbeat; Sylvain sweeps his feet out from under him and hits him in the chest with the butt of his lance to send him tumbling to the ground on his back.

Sylvain follows Felix to the ground, pinning the length of his lance across Felix’s chest and pressing him to the pitch hard enough that he hears Felix wheeze.

“Do you yield?” he asks, dark and low and full of meaning. At Felix’s narrowed eyes, he leans a little more of his weight on the lance – not enough to hurt, but enough to warn. _You can stop fighting now,_ Sylvain tries to tell Felix with his eyes. _Just stop fighting, and let me take care of you._ A few more seconds pass by, stretched long by tension, but then—

“I yield,” Felix says, and then, more softly, “I submit.”

Sylvain lets up his grip on his lance immediately, tossing it to the side in favor of cupping Felix’s face with gentle hands. “There we go,” he whispers, running his thumbs across Felix’s cheekbones. “There’s my good boy.”

Felix’s eyes drift shut as he lets his head loll into one of Sylvain’s palms. He’s vulnerable, like this. Exhausted and trusting. All the tension and anger has drained from him, having beaten itself down to nothing against the solidity of Sylvain’s will and body; now all that’s left is Felix’s submission and trust, not fighting Sylvain’s strength but leaning against it, finding comfort in it.

When Felix is like this, neither he nor Sylvain like anyone else to see him. This is a side of him he reserves for the people he trusts and loves the most. Glancing around to make sure no one’s snuck into the training grounds while they were occupied, Sylvain hooks his arms under Felix’s armpits and hoists him up.

“Can you walk?” he asks Felix. It takes a moment, but Felix nods slowly in response.

Sylvain keeps an arm looped around Felix just in case, but the two of them make their way back to their chambers with no issue; Felix is quiet and clingy, leaning against Sylvain’s side and nuzzling him with his head whenever Sylvain stops running his thumb along his hip. It’s heart-shatteringly endearing, and Sylvain wants to wrap him up and kiss him silly and never let him leave his arms again.

And he _can._ Just for tonight, but he _can,_ and Felix _wants_ him to. Sex or no sex, Felix will let Sylvain hold him close and pet his hair and kiss his forehead, let them both enjoy how vulnerable Felix can be with him.

“Bath?” Sylvain asks as he opens the door to their shared chambers.

Felix pauses, seeming to take stock of his body. His nose wrinkles. Clearly he’s realized how sweaty both of them got during that spar. “Bath,” he says decisively, and Sylvain nods, the corner of his mouth turning up with a little amusement and a lot of fondness.

Sylvain leads Felix into the washroom adjoining their bedroom and gently pushes him onto a stool to sit. “Wait here a moment,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Felix’s forehead and smiling against his skin when he hears Felix’s murmur of assent. He makes quick work of drawing the bath, and he’s endeared to find that Felix is still sitting where Sylvain left him, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch.

“Feeling pretty relaxed, huh?” Sylvain asks him. He tugs at the hem of Felix’s shirt. “Ready to take this off and get in the bath?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, quiet and pliant. He watches with comfortably hazy eyes as Sylvain unlaces his boots and pulls them off his feet, one at a time. Sylvain loves him like this – loves how easily he accepts Sylvain’s care for him. When Sylvain stands, Felix follows him easily; he lifts his arms when Sylvain tugs at his shirt, and steps out of his pants when Sylvain tugs them to the floor. The compliance and trust in every languid movement of his body speaks to how comfortable he is right now; his nudity is an easy expression of vulnerability, not of sexuality.

Not that looking at Felix’s naked body isn’t making heat pool in the bottom of Sylvain’s stomach. It’s not an urgent feeling, though – just a soft background hum of arousal that’s easy to ignore in favor of encouraging Felix into the bath. Felix makes a noise of disapproval when Sylvain doesn’t join him in the bath.

“You need to clean up too,” Felix says, too fuzzy to be accusatory but still managing to sound somewhat petulant.

“I know, I know,” Sylvain tells him soothingly. “I just want to clean you up first, okay?” Pulling the stool over to the edge of the bath, Sylvain sits himself down. When Felix slumps against the edge of the bath in acquiescence, Sylvain runs a hand through his hair with a murmured, “Good boy.” Felix closes his eyes at that, the lingering tension draining from his shoulders.

Sylvain reaches for the scented bottles of oil that Felix likes to use for his hair. “What do you want tonight?” he asks. “Lavender? Mint?”

“Mmm… lavender,” Felix says, not opening his eyes.

With a quiet noise of acknowledgement, Sylvain pours some of the lavender-scented oil into his palm. “Get your hair wet for me?”

Felix ducks beneath the water just enough to wet his hair, and when he rises back up, Sylvain tugs the tie from his ponytail and starts to rub the oil into his hair.

“Feels nice?” Sylvain asks as he massages the lavender-scented suds into Felix’s scalp. Felix exhales, and Sylvain feels more than sees his tiny nod. “Good. That’s my good boy. Just let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” Felix replies, easy and quiet, and Sylvain’s heart beats against his chest.

The rest of the bath passes in relative silence. Sylvain takes care combing his fingers through Felix’s hair, getting out as many tangles as he can without a brush, before he rinses the soap from the silky black strands. It’s difficult to reach Felix’s entire body from outside the tub, but Sylvain gently wipes the sweat and grime from his arms and torso with a soapy washrag.

By the end of it, Felix is almost as liquid as the bathwater. His muscles are loose, his body splayed out in the tub, and he barely cracks his eyes open when Sylvain taps his cheek.

“Room for one more?” Sylvain asks him playfully. Felix is probably too relaxed to say much of anything in response; Sylvain isn’t surprised when all he gets is a grunt of acknowledgement and Felix shifting forward to make room for Sylvain behind him.

Sylvain divests his clothing quickly so he can slide into the bath behind Felix, framing Felix’s body with his legs. He cleans himself in a very perfunctory manner, scrubbing the sweat from his body and wetting his hair with cupped hands to run some soap through it. Felix is silent and comfortable the whole time, leaning back against Sylvain whenever Sylvain isn’t cleaning part of himself that prevents it. When Sylvain finishes with himself, he retrieves a fresh washrag to finish cleaning Felix.

Wiping Felix’s lower half down beneath the bathwater reveals that he’s half-hard, clearly not too tired to be unaffected by the proximity and affectionate, lingering touches. “Making you feel good, huh?” Sylvain says lowly, brushing the cloth across Felix’s cock. “Want to do anything about that, or no?”

“Please,” Felix murmurs, squirming at the touch.

“Please yes, or please no?” Sylvain kisses his neck, all chaste affection. “I need a clear answer, Fe.”

Felix pushes back against Sylvain insistently. There’s no way he can’t feel how stiff Sylvain’s cock is, too. “Please, yes,” Felix says breathily, and Sylvain kisses his throat again, more firmly and with a hint of teeth.

“After we finish cleaning up, okay?” he says, and waits for Felix’s nod before he continues washing Felix’s body.

Despite Felix’s initial eagerness, his burst of energy seems to wane as Sylvain takes his time rinsing the soap off him. Sylvain tilts Felix’s face so he can dab a washcloth across the delicate skin there, gently wiping off Felix’s forehead, his nose, his red cheeks; when Felix’s eyes close during the ministrations, they don’t reopen.

“Feeling good?” Sylvain hums against Felix’s nape. 

The water ripples as Felix leans back against Sylvain’s chest, his head lolling against Sylvain’s shoulder. “Mhm.”

“We can just go to bed, if you want,” Sylvain offers, sliding his arms around Felix’s torso and holding him loosely. He’s hard against the small of Felix’s back, but it’s nothing he can’t take care of on his own before climbing into bed with Felix. He loves sex with Felix, but it’s more the _Felix_ part he loves than the _sex._

“No,” Felix grumbles. He turns his head just enough to nip at Sylvain’s neck. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Sylvain breathes. “Yeah, okay.” Hearing those words from Felix still causes the same rush of heat to Sylvain’s cock as they did the first time, and every time after that. Sylvain dips his head to nuzzle his nose against Felix’s cheek, smiling when Felix kisses his neck in response. Sylvain continues, lower, “Anything for my good boy.”

Felix lets out a soft whine and turns in Sylvain’s arms so they’re chest-to-chest, burying his face into the crook of Sylvain’s neck.

“How about I get you ready for me?” Sylvain asks him, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“Please,” Felix gasps. He squirms between Sylvain’s legs as Sylvain’s hand creeps down his back to his ass, and he lets out a long, low moan as Sylvain dips his fingers into his hole.

Felix is responsive both vocally and physically when he’s under like this; his hands scrabble at Sylvain’s shoulders as he gasps out wordless pleas and whines of Sylvain’s name, pressing back against Sylvain’s hand. He opens up beautifully around Sylvain’s fingers.

“Good,” Sylvain murmurs into Felix’s hair, running his free hand up and down Felix’s back in soothing strokes as Felix shakes apart against his chest. He slips a second finger into Felix, massaging his inner walls as he thrusts them into him slow and shallow. The angle’s not good for finding the spot that will really make Felix scream, but Sylvain just needs to get him open and ready for his cock.

“Want—” Felix gasps against Sylvain’s throat. “Want you in me—”

“Shh,” Sylvain soothes him, sliding his fingers out and rubbing both his hands up Felix’s back instead. “I’ve got you, Fe. I’ve got you. Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Felix nods against him, and Sylvain kisses his head one last time before starting to shift to get out of the bath. It’s a bit of a project to wrestle both himself and Felix out of the tub, and even more of one to dry both of them off when Felix keeps pressing himself against Sylvain and mouthing at his neck, but eventually they’re both dry enough for Sylvain to take Felix to bed.

“Up we go,” he murmurs against Felix’s ear, sliding his hands under Felix’s thighs and hoisting him up against his chest. Felix wraps his legs and his arms around Sylvain for the journey to the bed, and he doesn’t seem to want to let go even when Sylvain lowers him down so his back is against the covers. Deciding to indulge him for a little bit, Sylvain crawls onto the bed above him, pressing their bare chests together and nipping little marks onto Felix’s collarbones.

“Gonna take care of you,” he murmurs into Felix’s reddening skin. “Gonna take you nice and gentle.”

“Please,” Felix whispers. He bucks his hips up, and Sylvain sucks in a breath at the slide of their cocks against each other.

Sylvain props himself up on his hands, boxing Felix in with his arms. Felix is beautiful like this – wet hair splayed against the pillow, bath-pink skin starting to redden with arousal and Sylvain’s marks, chest heaving as he stares up at Sylvain with naked want in his eyes. Tucking a stray lock of Felix’s hair aside, Sylvain murmurs, “On your stomach, Fe. I want to be close to you.” Watching Felix’s face is one of Sylvain’s favorite things to do during sex, but tonight he wants the closeness of draping his whole body over Felix’s back, fucking into him deep and slow, feeling in his ribs every cry and movement Felix makes.

Felix turns over obediently, peering over his shoulder with one lidded brown eye, and Sylvain’s entire chest hurts with how much he adores this man. He strokes a hand through Felix’s silky hair, lifting a lock of it to his lips as he murmurs, “Good boy.”

The shiver that runs through Felix’s body at the praise sends a spike of arousal through Sylvain’s gut. He fumbles for the oil on their bedside table and sits up, his legs still bracketing Felix’s; he pours some of the lubrication onto his hand and pumps his cock, watching Felix watching him.

“Do you want my fingers, or are you ready?” he asks, thumbing the head of his cock.

“Want your cock,” Felix begs him, muffled by the pillow. “Please, Sylvain—”

“I hear you, don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Sylvain lines up the head of his cock with Felix’s hole, still loose and open from their bath, and pushes in the first inch or so, watching Felix for any pain.

Felix moans as he’s speared open, clenching his hands in the pillow beside his head and shoving his hips back as if trying to fuck himself further onto Sylvain’s cock. Reassured, Sylvain pushes further in as he drapes himself over Felix, chest against his back, his weight pressing Felix to the bed.

“Good?” he murmurs into Felix’s ear.

“Good,” Felix gasps, fingers kneading the pillow. “You feel so good.”

“Gonna take you nice and slow,” Sylvain says, sweeping Felix’s hair aside so he can press a kiss to Felix’s nape. “Treat you gently, like you deserve.”

Felix lets out a sound that’s suspiciously close to a sob. Sylvain wraps his arms around Felix’s chest, holding him close, kissing him over and over as he fucks into him with slow, deep rolls of his hips. This close, he can hear every gasp he wrings out of Felix, every whine and whisper of his name; he slides a hand down Felix’s body and wraps it around his cock. There’s no way to get good leverage with Felix pinned against the sheets this way, but it’s enough sensation to make Felix moan, soft little _ah, ah, ah_ s that leave his mouth with every movement of Sylvain’s hand and hips.

Sylvain’s not one to use the term _lovemaking._ It’s a flowery euphemism for something that’s carnal and dirty. But this slow, tender union of his body with Felix’s, the way Felix breathes and shifts beneath him, pliant and tired and trusting – he can’t call this anything _but_ lovemaking.

“I’m gonna come,” Felix whispers, sounding halfway asleep.

“Yeah?” Sylvain’s voice is equally quiet, not wanting to disturb the tender atmosphere. His fist shifts on Felix’s cock, and Felix whines. “My good boy,” he murmurs with a kiss to Felix’s shoulder blade. “Go ahead and come for me.”

Felix’s cock twitches as he comes between his belly and the sheets, some of it getting on Sylvain’s hand but most of it ending up on his body and on the bed. Sylvain works him through the aftershocks, but the moment Felix’s whimpers turn protesting, Sylvain slides his hand out from under his body. He’d stopped moving as Felix came, but he starts to roll his hips again in slow, sensual movements, teasing himself to the edge of orgasm but not quite tipping over. Felix’s body is limp beneath him, completely relaxed.

“Mmmgonna fall ‘sleep,” Felix mumbles into the pillow, but when Sylvain starts to pull out in response, Felix cracks a single eye open to glare at him. “F’you don’t come in me, m’gonna be mad.”

Sylvain huffs out an indulgent laugh, leaning over Felix’s back to press an affectionate kiss to Felix’s cheek. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Felix makes an approving noise as he closes his eye again and tucks his face against the pillow. Sylvain pushes his cock back into Felix’s pliant body, fucking him slow and deep and tender. Felix’s body shifts against the mattress with every thrust, unresistant.

Whatever small sounds Felix was making fall off entirely as he succumbs to sleep. Almost experimentally, Sylvain thrusts into Felix a little harder, but all he gets is a soft sigh as Felix nuzzles against the pillow. 

There’s something different about fucking Felix when he’s asleep. There’s no resistance in his body, no responsive moans or moving hips – just a warm body wrapped around Sylvain’s cock, receptive and willing. Sylvain has to tighten his grip on Felix’s body so he doesn’t push Felix all the way up the bed with his movements. Felix knows Sylvain won’t take it too far – won’t treat him in any way Felix wouldn’t like when he’s awake, won’t do anything but what Felix told him to do. He _knows,_ and he knows it so well that his body doesn’t wake even as Sylvain’s thrusts grow faster and more erratic as he approaches his peak.

Sylvain ducks his head to press his forehead against Felix’s back, hips stuttering at the hot, heady reality of how much Felix _trusts_ him. He gasps against Felix’s skin as he pushes his cock deep inside Felix’s warm, sleeping body and pumps him full of come.

He presses absentminded kisses to a few of the scars on Felix’s back, not quite pulling out yet, enjoying the tight warmth that’s just this side of too much stimulation. He thinks he can feel his come leaking out around his cock. Felix is beneath him, around him, his insides full of him, soft and safe in the bed they share; Sylvain raises himself up just enough to take in the full vision of Felix’s sleeping body.

Felix’s back rises and falls in slow, even breaths. What’s visible of his face is slack, whatever dreams he’s having pleasant ones; he’s fully naked, fully vulnerable, so relaxed and trusting that he doesn’t even stir when Sylvain finally starts to pull out.

“We both made the mess, but you’re making me clean it up, huh?” Sylvain whispers fondly. An adoring smile crinkles his eyes at the unconcerned mumble he receives in response. “Yeah, you’re lucky you’re so cute.” He strokes Felix’s hair behind the elegant curve of his ear before easing himself off the bed to get a washrag.

Felix hasn’t moved when Sylvain returns to the bed with a bucket of warm water and a rag, and love curls up warm and affectionate in Sylvain’s chest like a happy cat. Felix has all the strength and ferocity of a hundred armies, and it’s tamed of his own volition beneath Sylvain’s hands. It’s a precious gift Sylvain’s been given – _Felix_ is precious.

“Hey, you,” Sylvain murmurs as he sets the bucket on the bedside table and crawls back onto the mattress. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?”

Sylvain dips the rag into the water and sets to work cleaning the backs of Felix’s thighs and between his cheeks, where come has leaked out and is starting to dry. He’ll have to wipe off Felix’s stomach and the sheet beneath it too, but he doesn’t want to disturb Felix by turning him over quite yet.

The soft noise he gets when he dips the cloth into Felix’s puffy red hole is so petulant that Sylvain has to bite down a laugh. “C’mon, Felix, don’t give me that,” he chides quietly as he starts to clean some of the come out of him with gentle scrubbing motions. “You’ll complain if you’re sticky in the morning.”

Even when he’s asleep, Felix has a remarkable ability to seem put-upon. Sylvain abandons the cloth and opts to finger as much of his spend out of Felix as he can, but Felix’s squirming and whining becomes so pronounced that Sylvain gives up on the venture after only a few moments. He thinks he got most of it, at least, and these sheets will need laundering in the morning regardless; wiping his fingers on the washrag, he sits back on his heels and considers his next move. He needs to clean Felix’s own come off of him, but that involves rolling Felix over, which Felix’s fussy sleeping self doesn’t seem very inclined to cooperate with. 

“You can be such a brat,” Sylvain tells him, affectionate and amused. Without Felix awake to hear it and get too flustered to listen, Sylvain says, much more softly, “I love that about you, you know. You really…” The lump of emotion in his throat takes him a little by surprise, and he struggles to swallow around it as he continues. “You really are the most important person in the world to me, you know that?”

Felix lets out a small but very undignified snore.

“Oh, come on. You think you can just lie there and be that cute?” Sylvain says, playfully accusing. “I’m pouring my heart out here, Felix. Have some respect.” The smile on his face is helpless and uncontrollable, amused and adoring all at once. “Alright, c’mon, Felix. Over we go.”

He slides his hands under Felix’s sleep-warm body and eases him onto his back, keeping a careful eye on Felix’s face as he does so. Felix’s brow furrows a little, but he smacks his lips and rolls his head to the side, seeming to settle back into sleep.

“Made a bit of a mess of yourself, huh?” Sylvain says quietly as he rewets the cloth and wipes the smeared come off Felix’s abdomen. “Must have been good if it knocked you out this hard.” _I must have been good too,_ Sylvain thinks, somewhat smugly. Felix sleeps best when he’s completely fucked out, and Sylvain is happy to oblige.

Goosebumps are starting to rise on Felix’s arms, so Sylvain hurriedly wipes down some of the mess from the blanket and tosses the rag back in the bucket. “Let’s get you tucked in,” he murmurs as he wriggles the blanket out from under Felix so he can pull it over him instead. The warmth immediately relaxes Felix, and Sylvain watches, completely soft with adoration, as Felix snuggles comfortably down into the bed. 

Sylvain crawls under the covers beside Felix, pulling his side of the blankets up over himself and tucking himself against Felix’s side. He studies the lines of Felix’s face in the dark – the point of his nose, the curve of his cheekbones, the soft tumble of his hair.

“I love you,” he whispers, sliding an arm around Felix and pulling him closer.

Felix isn’t awake to say it back, but the easy way he curls into Sylvain’s side is all Sylvain needs.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed reading!! it is just the way of things that i try to write pwp and end up with 5k words of mostly fluff and tender feelings. these boys love each other very much okay
> 
> also, felix WAS a little cranky when he woke up the next morning with come leaking out of him, but sylvain kissed it better, if you know what i mean (he cleaned felix up) (with his tongue)


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